


The Hearts We Leave Behind

by ChateauxWithChattox (Lurlur)



Category: Slow Show - mia_ugly, Warlock TV - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Blood and Injury, Distrust, Fix-It, Gen, Harry the Rabbit, Historical Fantasy, Injury, Injury Recovery, It's about the layers and the levels, M/M, Memory Loss, Secret Messages, Sort Of, Temporary Character Death, The Inquisition - Freeform, Warlock the TV Show (Slow Show), mia_ugly's Slow Show Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23415433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/pseuds/ChateauxWithChattox
Summary: "To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die." - Thomas CampbellErasmus has left a few hearts behind, he just can't remember them.A Season 4 Finale Fix-It Fic
Relationships: Erasmus/William (Warlock - Slow Show)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 40
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations, Ixnael’s SFW corner, Slow Show Metaverse, Warlock fic





	The Hearts We Leave Behind

**Author's Note:**

> The Season 4 finale left us with William holding a dying Erasmus in his arms. After months apart whilst they pursued different parts of the Great Plan for foiling the evil Inquisition, I just couldn't leave them like that. My heart wouldn't allow it. So, here's my fix-it following the events of Season 4.
> 
> Thank you to Narumikaiko for her tireless and impeccable beta work, you truly are a goddess and you make my work shine its brightest.  
> Thanks is also due to ThyErasmusBeDamned for the title!   
> Dedicated to the denizens of Warlock Party House!
> 
> Sorry, not sorry to all you wereasmus tin hatters! I don't buy that theory at all and I know I'm going to be proven right!

It’s dark here, too dark. Erasmus has to touch his face to be sure that his eyes are open in the inky, velvet blackness which envelopes him completely. His mind is fuzzy, but he’s sure that he’s never known darkness like this. No matter how long he waits, his eyes don’t adjust.

The thought occurs to him that perhaps it’s not truly dark- perhaps the problem is his eyes. Both possibilities are alarming. Erasmus blinks rapidly, trying to detect any difference in what he perceives. Nothing changes. His lungs begin to struggle to draw breath as the panic really starts to set in. He’s constricted by tight bandages around his ribcage as much as by the effects of his distress.

His hands drop from where they are folded across his chest to feel the surface he’s lying on. It’s coarse stone with a layer of straw that’s cold with damp. The musty smell suggests it’s not fresh straw, either.

“Hello?” Erasmus calls out, hearing only the echo of his voice against solid walls.

There’s not even the sound of rodents scurrying away, or insects moving in the straw. The pounding of his heart begins to fill his head, every beat just a fraction faster than the one before until he’s sure he will pass out again.

In an attempt to get the better of it, Erasmus rolls onto his side and tries to sit up. Shooting, stabbing lances of white-hot pain send him crumpling back to the floor and lying prone once more, his eyes screwed shut as he prays for the pain to abate and hisses curses into the all-encompassing blackness.

He’s almost breathing normally when a harsh metallic sound crashes through the eerie stillness of the stone room. Only the fresh memory of his pain keeps Erasmus from moving, even as his frantic mind finally places the sound as that of a key turning in a lock. He’ll make a run for it if he needs to, but the agony is a stronger handicap than he wants to face.

A door swings open into the room and the faintest light seeps in from outside. Erasmus almost weeps at the confirmation that he’s not lost his sight. His eyes ache from the glow of a single, shaded candle that casts long shadows around the room. He can barely make out the figure holding it. Erasmus realises that he’s utterly helpless, laying on the floor and dazzled by the smallest light. The realisation is galling, he knows he should be better able to defend himself, doesn’t he? Shouldn’t he? Things are hazy, but he’s pretty sure that he’s not usually afraid like this.

“You’re awake at last,” the shadowy figure says, taking a step closer. Erasmus tries to sit up again, hating how vulnerable he is on the floor at the man’s feet. “No, no, don’t strain yourself.”

The man sits on his haunches and holds the candle over Erasmus’ prone body, inspecting him. Erasmus doesn’t recognise the clothes he’s wearing, plain rough spun breeches and a belted tunic.

“You look to be healing well. Do you feel up to answering some questions?” The man moves back a little and brings a stool over to where Erasmus is lying.

“Will you answer mine first?” Erasmus tries to sound in control despite the deep pit of horror he feels in his stomach.

“If I can, yes,” the man agrees, rather placidly. “The circumstances leading to your arrival with us, though, may be something that I cannot illuminate.”

Erasmus tries to understand the man’s meaning and studies his face. He’s older than Erasmus first thought, white-haired and paper-skinned. He has the look of a scholar or perhaps a doctor about him, kindly yet businesslike. Despite himself, Erasmus relaxes a fraction.

“Where am I?” Erasmus asks, watching the man’s face intently.

“You’re in the Castle at the End of the World, in a cell in the western tower,” he answers easily enough, no hesitation. “Can you tell me your name?” The way that he asks suggests that he isn’t sure that Erasmus  _ can _ answer him.

“I’m Erasmus,” he says, confidently.

“Good to meet you, Erasmus. I’m Cadfael,” the man introduces himself with a nod of his head. There’s a beat of silence before Erasmus realises that Cadfael is waiting for him to ask his next question.

“How did I get here?”

“We found you, floating in the river. Caught you just before you were swept out to sea. You’d been very badly injured and we feared the worst for some time.” Cadfael pauses, giving Erasmus time to absorb this information. He sets the candle on the floor, out of Erasmus’ line of sight. “Where are you from, Erasmus?”

That’s a question that Erasmus has never liked. Where  _ is _ he from, when he really gets down to it? He goes for the easiest truth he knows.

“My parents lived in Blencathey for a time, I’ve been largely nomadic since they died. No real home.” He would shrug now, but his muscles protest at the mere thought. “How long have I been here?”

A flicker of emotion races across Cadfael’s face, something like grief or remorse, the candlelight helps hide it and Erasmus can’t fathom the meaning.

“About three weeks, I’m afraid to say. You’ve been unconscious and feverish for much of the time. It’s only been in the past two days that your condition has improved at all.” Cadfael reaches out slowly, laying his hand across Erasmus’ brow. “Much cooler, the fever has passed. Have you any kin, anyone we could send for?”

Erasmus opens his mouth to answer in the negative but pauses. Something about it feels wrong, off somehow, he can’t put his finger on it. There is no one waiting for him, no one he shares his life with. There’s no loved one besides Belle and she’ll be long gone by now, munching hay from someone else’s manger, no doubt.

“No, there’s no one,” Erasmus answers, at last, trying to shake off the lingering sensation of wrongness that this answer provokes in him.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Cadfael sounds genuine in his sympathy.

Erasmus knows that he has no reason to feel so suspicious, that what he’s being told all adds up. It’s an effort, but he makes himself relax.

“Why am I being kept in this dark cell?” Erasmus asks, wanting the reassurance that he isn’t a prisoner.

Cadfael smiles kindly before answering.

“It promotes healing, removes distraction for the soul. We only use it for our most serious cases; you were very lucky that it was us who found you.” He nods as he answers, a kind of calm emanating from him. “Do you know why you might have been in Straebrar?”

“Straebrar?” Erasmus searched his memory.

The Castle at the End of the World sits on the most westerly peninsular of the western coast, Erasmus remembers seeing it on decorative maps. He’s wanted to see it for a while but never had cause to travel near. Straebrar, is that also in the west? Erasmus isn’t so good at directions when it comes to cities, he just sort of  _ knows _ the way from one place to the next. Straebrar wasn’t ever on his route, he’s sure of it.

“I- I don’t remember. I don’t remember ever being there. I can’t remember what I was doing. I don’t even know why I’m in this part of the country!” Erasmus starts to panic as his memory turns up more and more dark spots.

He tries to prop himself up onto his elbows and is immediately flooded with razor-sharp agony. Cadfael drops to his knees beside him and tries to hold him to the floor by his shoulders.

“Hush, Erasmus, calm! You’re alright, you are safe. Memory loss after a traumatic injury is to be expected. Don’t distress yourself,” Cadfael’s voice is low, steady, and insistent.

For want of anything else to do, Erasmus lets the man resettle him on the stone floor. There’s something comforting about him, something indescribable that makes Erasmus feel safer than he rightly should, something almost familiar about his pale hair and scholar’s hands.

“This has been a lot to endure and you are still healing. I apologise. Do you require anything? Are you comfortable enough?” Cadfael stands as he asks his questions, brushing off the knees of his robes.

“As long as I don’t move, the floor is more comfortable than it has any right to be.” Erasmus jokes weakly, Cadfael doesn’t smile. “Might I trouble you for something to eat or drink?”

Cadfael stoops to gather up the candle, supporting the shade with his fingertips as it rattles.

“Of course! I’ll have some broth brought up presently. You don’t want to rush right back on to solid food at this point in your healing.” He reaches up to a crevice in the wall and settles the candle there. “I’ll leave you some light, and the door will be open. The silence and dark have done you all the good they can, now.”

Cadfael smiles down at Erasmus and backs out of the room.

Sure to his word, he leaves the door open although no light seems to come from beyond it. The small light high in the wall allows Erasmus to get a measure of the room without overwhelming his tired eyes. It’s a little bigger than he’d expected, somewhat curved and wedge-shaped as such a room should be in a tower.

Erasmus is almost asleep when a boy arrives with his bowl of broth. Gratefully, he sips from the proffered spoon, straining his head as far upright as he can without causing pain to shoot down his spine. The boy feeds him patiently and wordlessly; Erasmus is too hungry to try to hold a conversation and disrupt the delivery of broth. When the bowl has been drained, the boy leaves and Erasmus is left alone with his thoughts.

Blank spaces in his memory aren’t anything new; Erasmus has taken a beating or two, overindulged in mead and ale, even once been so sick with fever that he’d lost a month of recollection. This feels different and he can’t figure out what’s raising his hackles like this. The last thing he can easily recall is setting up his stall in some market town. Somewhere on his regular circuit of markets and festivals, he knows that much. So why was he in Straebrar? He’s still worrying at the problem when sleep claims him, letting him drift off into something dreamless and restful.

Cadfael is there when Erasmus wakes again, sitting on the stool a short distance away. He has a second candle, shaded from direct view, and it casts dancing shadows around the room.

“How are you feeling today?” Cadfael asks as he casts a critical eye up and down his patient.

Erasmus takes stock of himself. He feels improved, at least a little, and he tells Cadfael so.

Slowly, under the watchful eye and careful direction of Cadfael, Erasmus raises his head and lifts his shoulders off the ground. The pain doesn’t jab at him until his shoulder blades are almost clear and he slumps back in quiet relief. He  _ is _ improving.

“Very encouraging! Erasmus, you are a tough one!” Cadfael claps his hands in delight.

“Tell me about my injuries? What happened to me?” Erasmus asks, noting the sudden shift in Cadfael’s demeanour.

“It was a nasty business. Are you sure you would know?” He pauses, waiting for Erasmus to indicate his wishes. A nod and he continues. “We found you floating face-up, it was a blessing that the carrion feeders hadn’t yet got to you, but it was your back that had the worst of the damage. It took us a long time to get you cleaned up enough to even see the manner of wounds you had sustained.” Cadfael takes a moment to collect himself, looking discomfited by the memory. “You had the shaft of an arrow protruding from just behind your heart and at least a dozen slices from a sword. You had clearly been attacked from behind. To think a man capable of inflicting such horrors upon another, I cannot bear it.”

Helpless on the floor, Erasmus tries to offer what comfort he can with his clumsy words.

“For whatever horrors I suffered, you and your people have done me a far greater kindness. I choose to take it as proof that the good do outnumber the wicked.”

Cadfael appears to accept the gratitude with humility, inclining his head before changing the subject. He entertains Erasmus with some of the castle’s more colourful history until Erasmus’ eyelids grow too heavy to bear once more.

Erasmus passes his time in this manner, with no way to measure the passage of the hours except for the burning of candles and the visits of Cadfael and the boy who brings food. His recovery continues to please Cadfael; between each visit the pain fades and Erasmus is less troubled by his missing memories. The boy bringing food begins to offer dry crackers, more substantial broth, and eventually a good stew with barley and parsnips which Erasmus is able to feed himself.

He surprises Cadfael by sitting himself on the stool and awaiting his visit, far more proud of himself than such a simple accomplishment should merit. Cadfael is so delighted that he declares Erasmus fit to leave the tower. The level of light in his cell has increased gradually enough that his eyes won’t suffer the adjustment back to daylight, Cadfael takes the time to explain, leaving Erasmus in awe at the cleverness employed in his healing.

He descends the tower stairs on wobbly legs, supported by Cadfael both bodily and with words of encouragement. The stairs merge and wind in a labyrinth Erasmus has no hope of remembering; instead, he follows the directions Cadfael offers and they arrive in a bustling kitchen preparing for breakfast. Through a far window, Erasmus sees the earliest pale fingers of dawn caressing the sky- his first sighting of sunlight in far too many weeks.

The kitchen workers all seem to know who he is, offering kind smiles and welcomes as Cadfael steers him around a large wooden table to sit out of the way. A woman who introduces herself as Marna serves him a wooden bowl of porridge before producing a small pot of honey from her apron pocket with a wink.

“Everyone here is so kind, I’m forever indebted to you all,” Erasmus says between mouthfuls of sweetened porridge.

“Nonsense, you owe us no debt. We just choose to be better than beasts.” Cadfael waves away Erasmus’ protests.

“I may still be weakened and recovering, but there must be some way I can be of use here?” Erasmus tries a different tack and hits his mark.

“Oh, yes, I’m sure we can find something to keep you occupied while you get your strength back!” Cadfael grins with comforting enthusiasm.

As soon as breakfast is completed, an efficient and polished process that Erasmus watches from his seat with awe, Erasmus is offered water and fresh clothes as well as a place to clean himself. It makes a great deal of difference to be able to wash his face and body, take off the clothing he’s been wearing for days on end, and tidy his hair back. He feels far more like his usual self, even if the clothing is a little less colourful than is his preference, he really can’t complain.

He’s a diligent worker, used to being self-sufficient and alone and as such he can turn his hand to almost any task. He darns socks and hems tunics, peels and chops vegetables, breaks down chickens, and scrubs out the cast iron pots without thinking twice. He’s fed good meals, has a comfortable bed to sleep in, and no one asks more of him than he can give. For the duration of his recovery, it’s a good pace of life. He’s even allowed time in the castle’s library and studies, meeting the scholars who live at the castle, reading and recording, discussing and interpreting. Much of it goes over Erasmus’ head, although he pleases them with his knowledge of the Old Tongue; he enjoys hearing the scholastic discussions. Something in the voices of educated, dedicated scholars makes his heart find peace.

Erasmus is making pastry for a pie when Cadfael finds him one afternoon. They talk while Erasmus works the flour and butter together with his fingertips.

“Do you have any plans, Erasmus?” Cadfael asks carefully.

“I think the pie is supposed to be rhubarb, but if you have a preference, I can see what else we have?” Erasmus says, distracted.

“Not the pie, man. Life! Do you intend to stay here forever, making pastry and darning socks?”

Erasmus looks at him, surprised at the heat in the question.

“I- I don’t know. This is the most honest work I’ve ever done and, well... I don’t hate it.” Erasmus answers, adding a splash of water to his pastry before allowing himself to think it over again. “I suppose I don’t see myself staying here forever. I’m used to being my own man, but you’ve all been so good to me. Leaving seems ungrateful.” He chews at his lip, thoughtful.

“Erasmus, listen, when you tend to a fawn with an injured leg, your reward is in seeing the animal run free again. We have no desire to keep you caged here.” Cadfael knocks on the table in a decisive gesture and leaves Erasmus with his thoughts.

Within a day, the call of the road worms its way back into Erasmus’ heart and he feels the pull of new horizons as keenly as he ever did. He navigates the impossible maze of staircases and paths until he reaches Cadfael’s quarters, determined to ask his leave to keep just the clothes on his back. He is healed and healthy again, as strong as any man might be. He had built himself up from nothing before, he could do it again.

“Erasmus! What a delight. What can I do for you?” Cadfael beams at the sight of him and Erasmus’ heart pinches in his chest.

“I was thinking about what you said, about my plans. I’d like your blessing to leave, if I may?”

Cadfael blinks in confusion.

“You don’t need my blessing, you’re no hostage or servant here! What can we do to help you? I won’t see you leaving here without coin in your pocket and supplies in your pack,” Cadfael is adamant, knocking all the wind out of Erasmus’ prepared argument.

“Thank you,” he says, meekly.

“Where will you go?”

“Straebrar,” Erasmus says automatically, he’s only had one destination in mind since Cadfael mentioned leaving. “At least to start with, I- I want to try to find some answers.”

“As well you should, as well you should,” Cadfael nods his approval, then his face lifts and brightens. “You could run a small errand for me! I know charity can chafe the pride but perhaps if you deliver a letter to my friend, you’ll find it easier to accept a little assistance from us?”

Erasmus readily agrees, thinking that there is very little that these people could ask of him that he would not willingly give for saving his life.

Erasmus leaves the Castle at the End of the World exactly six weeks after having first arrived, which Cadfael tells him as they say their goodbyes in the kitchen garden. Erasmus refused to leave through the main hall, preferring to spend his last moments here with the people he has come to be fond of.

He has coin in his pockets, supplies and clothes in a pack on his back, and Cadfael’s letter tucked into his tunic for safekeeping. The weather is fine and bright, a promising start to his new journey. Erasmus doesn’t look back at the castle until he’s far enough away to appreciate the full effect; Marna from the kitchens had pointed out a good place to stop and he marches towards it.

When he finally sees the castle, he understands everything he’s ever heard about it. It’s a mess of turrets and buttresses, some reaching for the very clouds and others short and squat. It looks as though fifty different builders started making their parts and then had a fight about how to join them together. Beyond the castle, glistening sandbars seem to disappear into the sky leaving the structure feeling disconnected from the landscape. It really does look like the end of the world. Erasmus allows himself one lingering look before moving beyond the line of trees that will obscure his view and take him to the river beyond.

Knowing that the river must take him to Straebrar, Erasmus takes the rough riverside track and follows it upstream. It winds between trees and lengthens his journey, but he has no other knowledge of the direction to travel. The sun is low on the horizon when he reaches the city gates and, although his heart tries to pound out of his chest, the lone guard doesn’t give him so much as a glance as he strolls through the open gate.

Nothing about Straebrar is familiar, nothing is fitting missing pieces into the empty places of his memory. It’s disheartening, even as he tells himself that it was a fool’s dream to believe that merely entering the city would bring back all his memories. He’s sure that something here will help him, even if he can’t see it yet.

Cadfael’s friend should be at the city hall- Erasmus is to put his letter directly into the man’s hands and no one else. As a favour in return for a life, it was a small condition to insist upon. Erasmus navigates the city streets with the ease of a habitual nomad, recognising the indications of main thoroughfares and following them to the city centre. There’s a man closing the heavy doors of the city hall when Erasmus finds it. He has a ring of iron keys on his belt and his left arm ends above the elbow.

“Good evening, sir. Do you know where I might find Sheriff Beringar at this hour?” Erasmus asks, oozing charm.

“Beringar? Not in town tonight, mister. Won’t see him before mornin’ I reckon.”

Erasmus swallows the disappointment and offers a smile to the man.

“My thanks. Is there an inn you would recommend nearby?”

The man looks Erasmus up and down, scratching absently at the end of his arm.

“The Black Lamb, over the bridge,” he points down a street. “They’ll have a room.”

Erasmus nods his thanks and steps away; the man locks the door and, giving Erasmus one last appraising look, he leaves.

The daylight is almost gone as Erasmus lowers himself onto the steps of the hall. He doesn’t want to cower in an inn for the night; something around here is going to help him, he knows it in his bones, in his heart, right in the core of him.

He leans his head in his hands and allows himself a moment of maudlin before smacking his knees and making to stand. A sharp bark draws his attention. In the corner of the square, a red wolfhound is staring at him, its tongue lolling from its mouth. It barks again, looking behind at something that Erasmus can’t see. Then it’s bounding towards him, covering the distance in loping strides until its tongue is on Erasmus’ cheek and he’s pushing it off.

“Arthur! Leave that man alone!” A boy of about five years comes running after the dog but he stops short, his face draining of all colour. “Ras?” he asks in a small voice.

“What? Kid, how’d you know my name?” Erasmus pushes the dog off, stands, and stalks towards the boy.

“Ras, don’t you know me?” The boy sounds genuine in his confusion. “Why don’t you know me?”

“Sorry, lad. Got some gaps in the last few weeks. Don’t take it personally.” Erasmus takes a step back, unsure of himself. The boy appears to know him but Erasmus can see nothing familiar in the boy’s face. He needs a moment to think, to rebalance after the shock of being recognised.

“Erasmus!” The boy cries out, catching Erasmus by the sleeve before he can get out of reach. “Please don’t go.”

He doesn’t have the heart to pull away from the child tugging at him.

“What’s your name, then?” Erasmus asks, softening his tone to try and ease the hurt on the boy’s face.

“Joshua,” he says with a sniff, he’s holding back tears and Erasmus has to wonder where a five-year-old learned this level of self-control. “The rest of our family is coming. They can help.”

As if on cue, a woman rounds the corner that Joshua had appeared from. She drops the bucket of water she’s carrying and her hands fly to her mouth. Even at this distance, Erasmus can see the tears welling up out of her eyes. She runs across the square, her skirts and dark hair streaming behind her. Erasmus freezes when she wraps her arms around him and squeezes.

“Mistress, please.” He tries to ease her away from him, unwilling to receive such a familiar embrace from a strange woman.

“Ras, Ras, how are you here? How can this be? Thank the stars and saints, Erasmus. You’re alive.” She babbles into his chest, near-hysterical with emotion.

Erasmus detaches her and holds her at arm’s length.

“Good woman, I do not know you. I have lost the last few weeks of memory, I have no recollection of your face or name, nor your relation to me.”

The woman wipes her eyes on her sleeves and takes a half step back, looking at Erasmus with shock and disbelief.

“You- You really don’t remember us.” She looks lost and so much younger for a moment, barely more than a child herself. “You have to come with me. I can fix this, I’m sure.”

Again, there’s nothing in his soul that speaks of safety or comfort with this woman and her child. Not even the dog stirs any fondness in his spirit. He looks between Joshua and his mother, between the first two people who seem to have any idea about who he is, and he makes a decision.

“I’ll accompany you, but I won’t be won over by pretty trickery or falsehoods.” He must have misjudged his tone because the woman manages to look both offended and amused.

Erasmus crosses the square to the dropped bucket and, upon finding that it had barely splashed, heaves it up into his arms to carry more comfortably.

“Lead the way,” Erasmus says, waiting to be shown the direction to walk.

Joshua and the dog run on ahead, taking turns carrying a floppy ragdoll rabbit that might once have been burgundy. Erasmus smiles at the way that the dog is exceptionally gentle with the toy.

They walk towards the edge of the city, towards a small house tucked against the towering city walls. It’s fully dark now, only the glow of the full moon illuminating their path. At the garden gate, Erasmus halts and lowers the bucket to the ground, shaking out his arms to get the blood flowing again.

“Thank you, I’ll take it from here,” the woman says.

As she bends to take up the handle, the front door of the cottage opens in answer to the dog’s playful barks. The most beautiful man that Erasmus has ever seen steps out from behind the door to welcome Joshua home. Between one heartbeat and the next, Erasmus’ world shatters and reforms.

“ _ William _ ,” he whispers, afraid of making himself heard.

_ William is there, across the mud and the muck, he’s there with a sword in his hand and a warrior’s scowl etched into his face. Erasmus wants to call to him but to distract him now would be deadly. He skirts around the battle, slipping between the shadows whilst keeping an eye on the bright head of his truest friend. _

_ Closer, closer still, the progress is agonisingly slow but Erasmus keeps at it. He must get to William before it’s all too late, before all of this is for nought. _

_ William is standing slightly apart from any others. There’s blood on his face and mud in his hair. Erasmus knows better than to think it’s William’s blood. Finally, he’s close enough to call out but just before he does, William sees him. His entire face brightens and the toll of the battle leaves him. Erasmus doesn’t remember starting to run, but running he is, as is William. They collide in a crash of bodies, arms around each other and hands gripping tightly. Erasmus has missed him so much, more than he thought he could miss another person. It’s been as if half his soul has been wandering the world without him. _

_ He’s about to say as much when William pulls away just enough to cup Erasmus’ face and examine him. Whatever he’s looking for, he seems to find it in Erasmus’ eyes. _

“ _ I missed you so much, I feared for you. You’re here. You’re here.” William says it first and Erasmus finds that his voice is stilled, incapable of saying what he needs to. _

_ He smiles at William, so deliriously happy to be home, he almost says the words they’d agreed to put aside. He’s drawing breath to tell William everything when the first red-hot blossom of pain erupts in his shoulder. _

_ William is ashen, trying to drag Erasmus away from the danger but the archers have their mark now. As many arrows hit Erasmus’ back as litter the ground around him. He howls in pain, trying to force his legs to cooperate with William’s pleading. Somehow they make it into an alley between two buildings, out of sight and out of range. _

“ _ Erasmus, hold on. Hold on, please!” William is holding him up, their chests pressed together. “You just came back to me!” William sobs. “You don’t get to leave again, you can’t!” _

_ Erasmus lifts one pale hand to William’s cheek, stroking it as he never truly had before. _

“ _ I was never really gone, William, I never will be,” his voice is weak and breathing hurts so much. “Keep him safe. Don’t- Don’t let this have been for nothing.” _

_ William can’t support him any longer and they slump to the floor, William helping Erasmus onto his side so as not to jar the arrows still lodged in him. The priest is openly weeping and begging, Erasmus is cold and tired, he wants to sleep, wants William to hold him while he sleeps. _

_ It’s dark for a while. Erasmus can hear William’s voice but not make out his words, he’ll ask him to repeat it later, it seems important but Julia is here now, Joshua stands beside her with Harry in one sticky hand. _

“ _ William, we have to go. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. We have to run.” Julia is trying to convince him. Erasmus doesn’t want them to leave but can’t find the voice to say so. _

“ _ He isn’t gone, Julia! I won’t leave him like this!” _

_ Why is everyone crying so much today? Even Joshua looks stricken and Erasmus can barely stand to see them all so upset. _

“ _ He’s gone, Will. He’d want us to keep Joshua safe and you know it. We have to go.” Julia is speaking so gently even as she sobs. “Ras, I’m sorry. My accidental hero, I owe you everything.” _

_ He wants to scream that he’s still there, that he hears them, that they have to leave him  _ now _. He wants to tell them that he loves them all, just one last time. He can’t, he isn’t really there but floating away on a breeze. The last thing he sees is William’s tear-streaked face as Julia pulls him away. _

_ Something acrid floods his mouth, washing away the taste of blood. He has no strength with which to spit it out or swallow it down so it dribbles from his lips. Dimly, he’s aware that he shouldn’t be able to taste or feel the liquid dripping from his face. Nor should he be able to feel the jolting of a cart beneath him, or the warmth of the sun above him. _

_ Cautiously, he eases his eyes open and stares up at the blue sky. A man looms over him and sneers. _

“ _ He’s waking. Hand over the next vial.” _

_ Erasmus feels his mouth forced open and a liquid with the taste of spiced honey is poured in. A coarse hand clamps over his lips, holding him in place until he swallows, wide-eyed and panicked. _

_ He feels the pain now, the agony of his back and inside his chest. He draws gasping breaths, shallow and rapid, as his lungs remember how to function and his heart flickers back to life. A heart is a heavy thing to bear and Erasmus had thought he was done carrying that particular burden. _

_ Two strong hands hold his head still as a third bottle is emptied into his mouth. It burns his lips and tongue for a second before rendering them completely numb. He’s staring at the open blue sky again when consciousness leaves him. _

_ He’s being carried into a building. Men are talking nearby but he can barely hear them over the pounding of his heart. _

_ He’s lying on his front, naked and cold. A man is dousing him in frigid water and ignoring the way that Erasmus screams each time that his wounds are flooded. _

_ Everything is dark and numb. Unseen hands prise his lips apart and force a bundle of bitter herbs past his teeth. A cup of water is poured into his mouth until he swallows and is left alone again. _

_ It’s bright and he’s bound to a table. A soft-looking man is asking him questions. Erasmus refuses to answer, refuses to give away his family. The man holds a damp cloth over Erasmus’ face and he passes out. _

_ The bright place again, the man and his questions. Some Erasmus won’t answer but some, some he can’t. Why was he in Straebrar? He’s stubborn, though, stubborn and afraid for those he loves. He thinks of William as he’s drugged once more. _

_ The man is closer this time. Erasmus isn’t bound as tightly. Does he have any kin? William. His home? William. His only answer, all he knows. William. _

_ It’s gone, now. There’s a hole where it was and Erasmus can feel the edges of where it used to be. He’s confused when the man asks his questions. Erasmus used to have answers for these, he used to know things he wouldn’t say. Now all he can say is that he doesn’t know. The man seems pleased. He has Erasmus walk with him, offering the answers that are missing. In a dark cell, Erasmus lies down on old straw, finding that the stones underneath support his back and neck perfectly. He inhales deeply from the vial he’s offered and closes his eyes. When next he opens them, the darkness is all-consuming. _

“William.” Erasmus can hardly breathe but he finds the air for one word.

The woman, no, it’s Julia.  _ Julia _ has her hands on his chest, standing in front of him like she’s afraid he might fall. He looks at her, lets her see the recognition that’s back in his eyes, the love that’s filling him.

“Ras,” she starts, but falters, interrupted by a strangled cry.

They both turn their attention to William who has fallen against the door frame and lost all colour from his cheeks. Joshua is tugging at him, trying to bring him closer to where Erasmus is standing. William takes one step forward, his face an unreadable mixture of grief, disbelief, hope, love, and fear. It’s all Erasmus needs to be able to tear up the roots his feet have planted in the earth and gently move Julia aside.

“William, Will, fuck,  _ Will _ ,” Erasmus pushes through the garden gate and strides up to where William stands, visibly trembling. He stops short, wanting so much but not knowing what he might be allowed. “You’re here.”

William is crying, he looks so like the last time Erasmus saw him, grief-stricken and exhausted with tears running down a soft face much more suited to smiles.

“It’s not you. This is a trick, a cruel trick. I saw you die. I held you and you  _ died _ and my heart died with you.” William shakes his head and retreats, refusing the evidence of his eyes.

“I know, I know, I know, you didn’t want to leave me. Julia pulled you away and, damn it William, I didn’t want to see you go but I was screaming at you to run. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I haven’t been here.” Erasmus is barely aware of what he’s saying but William looks so hurt that he just needs to make him feel better.

The weight of the day’s events is too much to bear and Erasmus sinks to the floor at William’s feet. Julia’s hands are on him again, helping control his descent. He didn’t know she’d followed him.

“Ras, do you know me?” Julia asks, crouching to meet his eyeline.

Moments ago, he hadn’t. He hadn’t known her at all, not even a flicker of recognition but now she’s his best friend, funny, clever, witty Julia who hates socks and picks up every shiny rock she finds. He can see the impact that these past weeks have had on her, the worry around her eyes and mouth, the pallor of grief that tints her skin.

“Julia, I remember you. I do know you now.” He pauses as Joshua appears from behind her, holding Harry in front of his mouth. “And Joshua, my little champion, I know you.” Erasmus offers a little deferential nod of his head and reaches out to take one of Harry’s paws. “And of course, Sir Harry of Rabbiton. I see he’s been keeping you all safe, just like I told him to.”

Joshua launches himself at Erasmus, wrapping his thin arms around Erasmus’ neck and clinging to him as only children can. Erasmus buries his nose in the boy’s mop of hair and holds him tight, finally letting his own tears fall. Julia’s hand strokes his back, reassuring and familiar.

“Neath, will you get over yourself?” Her hissed whisper is as audible as a shout. “It’s Erasmus, our Ras. You know him.”

“We’ve seen so many tricks and illusions, and I have dreamt this moment so many times. Julia,  _ we saw him die.  _ He can’t have survived that, whoever this man may be, he is not  _ our _ Erasmus. Our friend died at Neath.” William says decisively. He pulls Joshua from Erasmus’ grasp and holds him on one hip before addressing Erasmus directly. “I think you had better leave.”

“I died at Neath,” Erasmus says to himself, distracted. “We were in Neath. I hadn’t seen you for months but I found you in Neath, fighting the Inquisition. I did what I was supposed to do and I made my way north to where we would meet,” He’s missing a piece of the puzzle but his mind is too rattled to find it. “Isn’t this Straebrar?”

Julia nods despite William’s warning glance.

“Yes, we’re in Straebrar. No one knows our faces here. We-” she breaks off and wipes her face on her sleeve, “we needed some time to grieve in relative peace.”

“Oh, shit,” Erasmus says as fear settles in his belly like ice. “Fuck. I think this is a trap... and I think I’m the bait.”

He reaches into his tunic and pulls out the letter. He recognises the seal now, recognises it all too well. The Inquisition sword and quill crossed in black wax, pressed there by kindly old Cadfael himself. Erasmus is being used.

The atmosphere changes instantly, William calls the wolfhound over with a shrill whistle and heads into the house. Julia stands and hurries Erasmus back to his feet, casting anxious glances around as she ushers him through the door and closes it behind them.

“Joshua, take Arthur into the other room and make sure all the beds are made, please.” William sends the boy off with a gentle voice and the memory of a hundred previous instances where he’s had to keep quiet, still, or out of the way makes Erasmus’ heartache.

He takes in the simple, low-ceilinged room, looking for the subtle signs that mark a place as belonging to his family. Julia’s chalks on the door frame, William’s pack within easy reach, Joshua’s sooty handprints on the walls. They seem to have been doing well enough without him, he realises with a pang.

The sound of shuffling overhead makes him freeze; there’s someone in the loft and they seem to be heading towards the ladder. He glances at William and then Julia but neither of them appear alarmed at the presence of another person in the house. A few seconds later and he realises why as Nicholas falls halfway down the ladder and apologises to it.

“Hello Nicholas,” Erasmus knows that his appearance is almost impossible but how does one come back from the dead without causing a few shocks?

Nicholas lifts his spectacles and rubs his eyes before looking again.

“Goodness, a ghost.” William is beside Nicholas before his knees give out completely, saving him from breaking his nose on the rungs of the ladder.

Between William and Julia, they get Nicholas into one of the wooden chairs by the table and bring him back to himself. Erasmus tries to help, to offer support or to move a chair for them but William blocks him at every turn, hammering home the utter absence of trust that William holds for him. They don’t need him anymore- perhaps they never did. It’s a sobering thought that Erasmus has little time to examine before Julia is holding out her hand and asking for the letter.

William takes a seat beside her, looking over the seal and the quality of the parchment. Julia flicks the wax seal with one fingernail.

“We have to open it,” Julia says, her eyes darting between William and Erasmus.

“That’s what you’re worried about right now?!” Nicholas finds his tongue at last. “Erasmus is sitting at my bloody kitchen table and you’re talking about a  _ letter _ ?”

Julia drops the letter on the table and folds her hands over it.

“You’re right. I- I think the letter just felt like something I could tackle right now. This-” she waves a hand in Erasmus’ direction, “is too big, my brain can’t comprehend it. I’m afraid that if I try to understand, I’ll wake up from the dream that’s brought my best friend back to me.”

For the first time since he saw William, Erasmus allows himself a moment to really think about what’s happening. His family, the people he loves more than anything- they lost him and they grieved for him. They don’t understand any of what he’s been through. No wonder William doesn’t trust him.

“I’m here, I’m real. Julia, William, what can I do to show you? How can I make this right?” He slides his hands across the worn wood of the table, reaching for both of them.

Julia lets him cover her hand with his and gives a quiet cry. William pulls his hands away and doesn’t look Erasmus in the eye. It hurts more than a dozen arrows to the back.

“ _ How,  _ Ras? How are you here?” Julia’s voice breaks as she asks.

As accurately and as kindly as he can, Erasmus tells them his story. He starts with seeing William in the midst of the fight and needing to get to him, their brief embrace and the injuries he sustained. He chokes as he recalls seeing them leave him for dead, not out of any anger or hurt, but because he can so clearly see how they struggled with doing what they had to. His memories are only flashes of sensation for a while, but he recounts them all: the potions, the cart, the castle, the questions, his fading memory. Admitting that he forgot them feels like it might kill him where he sits but he barrels on, giving them everything he can find in his scattered and haphazard memories.

Erasmus tells them of his time working in the castle and how he was manipulated into coming to Straebrar, believing he might find answers here. His tale only falters when he comes to describing being found by Joshua and Julia, the complete blank space that his mind turned up when he searched their faces for sparks of recognition. He’s not been able to look up from his hands for the duration of his speech, unwilling to risk seeing disbelief or distrust on the faces of those he loves, but now Erasmus forces himself to look up at William, to look into his eyes as he tells him how it was only the sight of William that broke the dam and brought back all that had been stolen from him.

William looks so conflicted, so hurt, his face wet with silent tears that he makes no move to hide or wipe away. Still stung by the way he’d pulled away from Erasmus’ hand before, Erasmus stamps down the urge to sweep the tears from William’s cheeks.

“No matter what they did, what they asked, I always felt like I had a home that I just couldn’t quite picture. As soon as I saw you, William, I knew exactly what my home looked like.” Erasmus is pleading, needing to feel the bond they had so recently shared.

“Ras,” Julia breaks the silence that had begun to linger. “I believe you. Stars, how I’ve missed you these past weeks. I’d hear your voice in the other room, or see you across the marketplace... my heart broke a hundred times every day remembering that you were gone.”

All four are openly weeping, no longer muffling the sobs and sniffles that accompany the tears.

“I can’t pretend that I understand it, but glory-be! Erasmus, you’re back with us and that is a blessing!” Nicholas smiles through his tears, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands.

Erasmus loves them so very much, his heart can barely stand the pressure of all this love, having been denied it for weeks.

“What toy does Joshua carry everywhere?” William’s voice is cold but trembling.

“What? Will-” Julia starts to object, Erasmus squeezes her hand and quiets her.

“It’s a rabbit, Harry the rabbit.” He answers easily.

“Yes, I noticed your familiarity with it earlier. Where did it come from?”

Erasmus creases his brow in confusion, why is William asking him these things?

“I stole it,” he lies easily, the way he has every time the topic of Harry’s origin has come up. “Lifted it off a market stall in Perthlochcy.”

William fixes him with a stare that almost has a physical weight to it.

“Where did Harry  _ really _ come from?” William’s eyes are still streaming, but he doesn’t blink, keeping Erasmus in his sights.

“I told you-” Erasmus starts and then he sees the tension in William’s jaw, the quiver of his bottom lip, the desperation in his eyes. He wants the real truth. Erasmus deflates and starts again. “I made him. I fell and badly ripped my doublet. It was beyond repair so I cut it up and made the rabbit instead. I lied because I didn’t want you to think I was soft.”

William leans back in his chair and looks towards the ceiling, breathing deeply.

“That’s good enough for now,” he says to the room in general.

For a moment, Julia looks like she wants to jump on Erasmus and hug the breath out of him.  She restrains herself and picks up the letter once more, tapping it on the table.

“ Perhaps we can  get back to this?”

The letter proves a welcome distraction, and puzzling over how to read its contents without breaking the wax seal prevents Erasmus from worrying himself into a state over the frosty treatment that William is consistently delivering.

“ I don’t suppose you’ve got an Inquisition seal tucked into one of your pockets, do you, Julia?” Nicholas asks in a desperate combination of hope and humour.

He’s turning the letter over in his hands and not really looking at it when his fingertip catches under the sealed flap. Watching a look of inspiration dawn on Nicholas’ face is truly a treat and one that Erasmus has sorely missed.

“ I need the sharpest blade we can find and one of the lamps,” says Nicholas, urgently.

William and Julia leap up and fetch what he needs. Julia brings a lamp down from a shelf and William rummages in his pack until he finds the leather bundle that contains his razor. Erasmus suppresses a shiver at the familiar sight of it; there are too many important memories associated with that razor for him not to react. Despite himself, Erasmus glances at William’s face and feels his cheeks warm at the direct gaze he gets in return.

Nicholas sets the items in front of him like a doctor organising his pills and potions. He takes the razor out of the leather wrapping and examines the edge briefly before holding it over the flame of the lamp.

In unison, William and Julia let out little gasps of realisation and lean closer to watch Nicholas work. He warms the blade, testing with a fingertip to see when it is warm enough to soften the wax.

No one dares to breathe as Nicholas slides the razor between the layers of parchment and slices right under the seal. Huffing a quiet laugh, Nicholas appears to be surprised with himself.

“ Good work,” Erasmus says, pleased.

Carefully, Nicholas unfolds the parchment and smooths it over the table before moving the lamp closer in order to read the contents.

“ Most Esteemed Sheriff Beringar of Straebrar, the man delivering this message is the wanted fugitive Erasmus of Blancathey- his known aliases include Amanda Bishop, Wymond Suttone, and Lyle Amar. Following the skirmish at Neath, we have dedicated significant resources to locating the other members of his party. I have traced links to a citizen of Straebrar which, in combination with reports from our trackers, would suggest that his associates, known enemies of the Inquisition and all god-fearing men, traitors to the state, and willing harbingers of the plague are in your city. He has no memory of them and thus can be used to draw out the plague-spreading vermin. I will leave it to you to accomplish the capture. Send word once you have them and I will arrange their extraction as well as your reward. Erasmus can be disposed of once he has served his purpose, the Inquisition has no further use for him and he may prove a liability if left alive. Yours, in faith and solidarity, Maester Cadfael, Inquisitorial Chief of Arcane Research.”

As soon as Nicholas finishes reading, Erasmus finds himself under the scrutiny of three intense gazes.

“ He- he sent me to my death. He embraced me and said goodbye with a smile, knowing that he was using me as bait and sent me off to die.” Erasmus struggles to reconcile the contents of the letter  with the kindly man he’d known.

But that isn’t right, his memories show him a Cadfael who manipulated and used him, who lied with every breath, even lying about the nature of Erasmus’ injuries to distance him from the truth. He shakes his head, trying to settle the two versions of Cadfael into one.

“ Ras,” Julia says gently, touching his sleeve. “What do you want to do?”

“ Don’t ask  _ him _ ! He’s here to give us all up to the Inquisition!” William’s outburst comes before Erasmus can even begin to think of how to respond to Julia.

He stares, wide-eyed and shocked, taking in the bitter twist of William’s face.

“ How can you say that?” Julia seems as shocked as Erasmus feels. “How can you have heard his story and seen this letter and still not believe him?”

“ I believe him well enough, I just don’t trust him.” William practically spits the words.

“ William,” Erasmus hears how needy his voice is and clamps his mouth shut, unwilling to expose his heart in so unfriendly a climate. After a few deep breaths through his nose, Erasmus trusts himself to speak again. “I’ll leave, spend the night at an inn so you lot can decide what you want to do without me around to influence you.”

He stands and walks to the door without being able to look any of them in the face.

“ Don’t-” Julia begins but a look from William shuts her down.

“ I’ll be at the Black Lamb tonight,” Erasmus says, staring at the wood grain of the door as he speaks. “I won’t come back here again but I’ll be in the city square until sunset tomorrow if you want me. If not, then, well... take care of Joshua and each other.”

He opens the door and steps through. No one stops him. 

In a daze, he finds the inn and pays to take a room for the night. Erasmus barely looks at the lodging he's shown to, instead he slings his pack onto the bed and closes the door behind him, leaning against it and sliding to the floor, crying into his folded arms like an injured child. The wound in his heart has worsened with every step he’s taken away from the cottage. After spending weeks not even knowing what was missing, Erasmus now can’t fathom a life without his family.

At some point in the night, he runs out of tears and the energy to sob out his grief but he doesn’t move from the floor until sunlight begins to fill the room. When he does stand, it’s only to pour water from the ewer into the basin and wash his face, neck, and hands. The polished brass above the basin reflects the face of a man who has all but lost hope.

Merely a day ago, Erasmus had been so full of optimism and plans for a prosperous future. Now, he barely wants to see another dawn if he has to do it alone.

Swinging his pack across his back, Erasmus leaves the room and its unused bed. The smell of baking bread turns his stomach; he can’t face the thought of food with his soul in tatters, so he hurries out of the inn with his shoulders around his ears. He’s barely out of the inn when he sees a familiar silhouette in the shadows by the bridge.

His hopeless, undying heart hammers against his ribs as he approaches the spot where William waits, ignoring his most valiant attempts to temper the embers of optimism.

“ Good morning,” Erasmus offers, trying to sound neutral.

“ Here,” William thrusts his hand out, the letter hanging from between his ink-stained finger and thumb. “Deliver this.”

Erasmus takes the letter and turns it over in his hands. There’s no sign that the seal has been tampered with and he almost asks how it was accomplished. The barely concealed distaste on William’s face almost stills Erasmus’ tongue.

“Is it- Have you altered it?” He asks, tasting the vulnerability he can’t hide.

“I have,” William answers, stony-faced. “You’ll understand if I don’t share the details with you, though.”

“ Of course.” Erasmus tucks the letter back inside his tunic.

“ I will follow and observe, so don’t attempt any trickery,” William warns.

The embers Erasmus is nursing are doused and all he can do is nod miserably to express his understanding. It’s a short walk to the main square again and Erasmus is aware of William’s presence behind him every step of the way. He wants to turn and fall to his knees, beg and plead for a sign from William, a clue, anything to help him earn back the trust and love that was once so freely given.

The square is quiet when they arrive. Erasmus goes to wait by the doors to the hall, leaning against a wall and busying himself with a stick and a small knife, carving a simple whistle for Joshua. One last gift for the boy to remember him by. He feels William’s eyes on him the whole time.

Eventually, the square begins to fill. An entourage of liveried men stream in from one of the main streets and Erasmus immediately gives it his attention, shoving the whistle and the knife back into his pack. A man on a horse rides right up to the doors of the hall and waits for the one-armed key bearer to unlock the doors before dismounting. He has all the self-importance of a sheriff and the manners of a donkey, Erasmus quickly decides.

“ Sheriff Beringar?” Erasmus straightens and calls out once the man has his feet on the ground.

“ Who addresses me?”

“ Good sir,” Erasmus offers a sweeping bow. “I am your humble servant, sent hence from the Castle at the End of the World with a letter from Maester Cadfael.”

The sheriff stops just in front of Erasmus and holds out his hand expectantly. Erasmus draws the letter from his tunic and offers it for the sheriff to take, praying as loudly as he can, to any god who’s name he ever learnt, that whatever gambit he’s part of works out. He casts his eyes down to the sheriff’s boots and waits, hearing the snap of the wax seal with some degree of satisfaction.

“ Hmm, this is very good news,” the sheriff mutters as he reads. “Very good, indeed. Steward, pay the man!”

A grubby man in grubby livery steps forward with a coin purse in his hands, he fishes out a couple of coins and places them in Erasmus’ upturned palm.

“ Thank you, kind sir. Blessings upon you!” Erasmus bows again and takes his leave, hiding his relief at being allowed to walk away.

He waits until the sheriff and his entourage are all within the city hall before leaving the square. William is no longer in sight and the disappointment Erasmus feels at that realisation is physically painful. With no destination in mind, Erasmus wanders the surrounding streets until he finds himself back at the bridge by the Black Lamb. With nothing better to do, Erasmus leans against the balustrade of the bridge and watches the water flow away from him.

A hand springs up from below the bridge and grabs his ankle, making him yelp and leap away in shock. William’s pale head appears a moment later.

“ Down here,” he whispers, pointing at a stone staircase on the far bank of the river.

Erasmus does as he is bid, wondering if William means to pitch him into the river and leave him for dead once more.

Under the bridge, Erasmus finds the foundations of an older bridge, worn by the changing water levels, but currently dry as the river passes through ducts below. He can’t stand to his full height, but there’s enough room to move. William is standing in the centre of the river, on the stone foundation. Erasmus goes to him as if under a spell.

“ Did that- did it go as you hoped?” Erasmus asks, searching William’s face for any indication of his intent.

“ Completely,” William says, offering no further commentary. He looks down at his feet, clenches his fists and then finds Erasmus’ face again with shining bright eyes. Erasmus braces himself to take a blow. “What was the last thing I said to you in Neath, Erasmus? What were the last words I spoke before Julia arrived?”

Suddenly, Erasmus remembers William’s sweat, blood, and tear -stained face, so close to his own, whispering to him as life and warmth fled his limbs. Words so important that Erasmus hates that he could have ever forgotten them.

“ You- you told me not to leave you.” Erasmus swallows hard and presses on. “You said you’d missed me and that I couldn’t go again so soon. You told me that you love me.” Erasmus takes half a step towards William. “You said you love me,” he repeats, disbelieving.

William lifts his chin and doesn’t retreat. He’s a warrior, so strong and brave when he has to be.

“ I did.”

“ _ Oh _ , William,” Erasmus breathes his name like a prayer. “I love you too. I loved you then, I love you now. Please, tell me how to make this right between us again?”

William’s chin trembles as his resolve begins to falter. Erasmus drops to his knees and reaches for William’s hands. Despite his dry husk of a body, fresh tears cling to his lashes.

“ Will, please,” Erasmus brings William’s hands to his lips, delighted to find no resistance to his movement, nor to his many gentle kisses.

One moment, he is kissing William’s knuckles and watching his face through a prism of tears, the next, William lunges at him and wraps his arms around Erasmus’ neck. Overjoyed, Erasmus holds William’s body close to his and breathes in the scent of his beloved as they kneel together.

“ I love you,” William says, a low whisper in Erasmus’ ear. “I missed you and I hated myself for leaving you and I wanted you back every second of every day and  _ I love you, Erasmus. _ ”

William lets him pull away just enough so they can see each other’s faces, both etched with joy and pain in equal measure.

“ You’re a sappy old git, Priest.” Erasmus teases, then covers William’s mouth with his own before any retort can follow.

Kissing William, his William, is a wonder that Erasmus never knew he’d been missing. His heart sings with the joy of it, he feels as though he could float away on a light breeze. William’s tongue licks into his mouth and Erasmus presses their bodies closer still, moaning his delight into William’s delicious mouth. He’s terrified of forgetting a single moment of this kiss, of missing a second of the experience. When William breaks away, Erasmus chases his lips and catches them once more.

Finally, looking decidedly pink about the mouth, William pries Erasmus off him long enough to complain about the cold seeping into his knees.

“ Let’s go home, Ras, my love. Get you back to the family properly.” William offers his hand to Erasmus to lead him back up to the street.

_ Home,  _ Erasmus thinks giddily,  _ home is wherever you are. _

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Give! Us! The! Kiss!
> 
> We deserve it!
> 
> Please leave me comments if you enjoyed this work. It makes me happier than Julia Chattox's forearms.


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